Royally Screwed

By Wendy Dalrymple

Destiny Meeks never wanted to be a gossip columnist, not even if it means she gets to interview the self-made monarch of St. Angelis Island. She wants to write about the good things happening in the world, not cover celebrity intrigue. But Destiny, just out of journalism school and with loans to pay back, can't afford be choosy.

Riel Paz never wanted to be a prince. He'd rather be in the sky, piloting his beloved planes on hurricane-relief missions. But it's his mother's fiftieth birthday, and he's charged with transporting her special media guests to the island for the weekend. He's sure nothing good can come from talking to a reporter from one of the most well-known gossip rags. But he can't seem to keep his eyes off her.

Overwhelmed by the delights of a tropical island and the allure of the moody prince, Destiny struggles to keep up her professionalism and convince herself that her job is worth keeping. And meanwhile, the queen seems to have a hidden agenda of her own...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Apr 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094417479

Wendy Dalrymple

Wendy Dalrymple writes cozy, low-heat romances inspired by everyday people. When she’s not writing happily-ever-afters, you can find her camping with her family or walking her dog. Keep up with Wendy at www.wendydalrymple.com!

Book preview

Chapter One

Destiny Meeks stepped out of her rental sedan and shielded her eyes against the rapidly darkening sky that hovered over Miami Executive Airport. The red-eye flight from Atlanta had made for a long and frustrating morning but she was exhilarated despite her exhaustion. A fat droplet of rain kissed her cheek and she blinked as her vision adjusted to the hazy light and scanned her surroundings. The ominous gray accumulation of clouds overhead had been threatening to open up since they’d arrived in Florida, but so far, only a few gusts of wind and rumbles from up above had given any hint to the oncoming storm. But now, as she stood in her best gray silk wrap dress with a charter jet waiting for her in the distance, the tropical weather had decided to show its true colors and ruin Destiny’s outfit… and her day. If she didn’t get inside that jet within the next few minutes, all the effort she had put into setting her hair that morning was sure to be wasted.

Sweetie, can you run in those heels?

Her photographer and friend, Miguel, stepped around to the front of the car dressed in sensible high-top sneakers (new) and an oversize houndstooth blazer (vintage). A pompadour of tousled bleach-blond curls fell into his Warby Parker frames, which he skeptically pushed up the bridge of his nose. Miguel, who was somehow always one step ahead of her and much more prepared, popped open his umbrella and threw Destiny a worried cringe.

"That lady in Jurassic World ran through a whole dang movie in heels, Destiny said, her jaw determined and set. I think I can make it across the tarmac."

Well okay then, Clever Girl, Miguel said. Let’s go. This airport smells wretched.

The small private airport just outside of downtown was indeed unpleasant smelling on that hot and humid summer day. The patches of undeveloped land on the outskirts of the city emitted a sulphurous, acrid aroma in the wet heat that, combined with freshly paved asphalt, created a distinctive, off-putting bouquet. Even though Miami was no longer the vast mangrove swampland it used to be, the earth still remembered its boggy beginnings. Miami smelled nothing like the sweet and comforting hills of red clay soil in her small hometown an hour north of Atlanta; this scent was one that wouldn’t soon be forgotten. Landscape, like time, holds on to memory.

How long do you think it’s going to take to get there? Miguel huffed at her side, clutching his camera bag for dear life against the impending rain.

Destiny shook her thoughts from hometowns and stinky landscapes back to the task at hand. Her heels crunched along the black tar road as they left her rental car behind and booked toward the only waiting shuttle jet on the lot.

Two hours? Maybe three? I don’t know. Up until last week I didn’t even know where St. Angelis Island was.

"Honey, up until the last couple of years, St. Angelis didn’t even exist," Miguel chortled.

Destiny gritted her teeth and forged on as a smattering of rain pelted softly all around them. The storm wasn’t just coming; it was already there. Her instincts told her to run back to the safety of the rental car; that there was no way in hell she could trust her precious body and life inside of a tin can in what was probably the beginnings of a tropical storm. She didn’t have much of a choice, though. The queen of St. Angelis was waiting.

Is that the pilot? Miguel whispered, jabbing her lightly in the ribs. "Ooh, I should have brought my mini fan. That man is fire."

Destiny squinted through the rain at the man who had emerged from behind the cockpit of the precariously small plane. With a smooth, dark complexion, a crop of glossy, wavy hair and a medium build that filled out a suit jacket and tie, the man who waited on them in front of the jet looked more like a male model than a pilot. Whoever he was, Destiny had to agree with her photographer. He was kind of gorgeous.

Are you Destiny? the man called out, tugging at the cuff of his sleeve.

Are you the pilot? she asked, shielding her eyes again.

He nodded and reached for her rolling luggage.

Destiny’s cheeks began to warm despite the chill that blasted forth from the cabin of the plane. She fixed a smile on her face, finally remembering herself.

You’re a professional, Des. Act like one!

"This is my photographer, Miguel. We’re from OnScene?"

Yeah, I know where you’re from.

As Destiny boarded the small aircraft, the pilot shook Miguel’s hand and exchanged pleasantries before motioning for his bag as well.

Oh, no. Miguel smiled, clutching his camera bag protectively to his chest. This is carry-on.

Suit yourself, the pilot said, stowing Destiny’s suitcase in the storage compartment at the base of the plane.

Do you think it’s safe enough to fly? Destiny called out, pointing up at the low accumulation of clouds overhead. The pilot glanced up at her from the tarmac underneath a heavy, arched brow and gave her a look that she knew to interpret as you’ve got to be kidding me. Even as he gazed up at her with a clearly annoyed expression, Destiny couldn’t help but think that he was ridiculously, stupidly good-looking.

Sorry, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never been on a charter flight before.

He nodded and gave her a not-so-reassuring half-smile.

I’ve been monitoring the weather all morning, he said. This is going to pass.

With a flawless complexion, razor-sharp features and a dentist commercial-grade smile, the pilot was even more handsome up close, and almost alarmingly young. By Destiny’s estimation he couldn’t have been any older than she was, perhaps just a few years out of college like her. And his eyes… she had never seen someone with golden eyes before. But it was the heavenly blend of coconut and something spicy emanating from his very being that really knocked her over. Suddenly the oncoming storm didn’t seem so worrisome anymore as she settled into the seat of the charter plane.

Just as she had finally talked herself down, a clap of lightning followed by a boom of rolling thunder caused Destiny to jump in her seat. The storm was now definitely underway, but she was desperate and determined enough to press on just the same. As someone who disliked gossip by nature, it was surreal to her to be working for OnScene in the first place. She had no real desire to make anyone look bad, including the newly minted queen of St. Angelis. She was somewhat intrigued in the A-list soirée that her regal hostess would be throwing that weekend, though by her own admission, was still a little rough around the edges when it came to celebrity interviews. For whatever reason, Destiny’s editor had specifically chosen her out of all the other freelance journalists at OnScene to cover the event and had promised a big promotion if she agreed to the assignment. Why the queen had decided to grant their celebrity gossip magazine exclusive interview rights boggled her mind, but it was too late now for questions.

After what seemed like an eternity of checking goodness-knows-what, banging on the side of the plane and generally huffing around, the pilot returned to the cockpit just as a wall of rain splashed down around them. Miguel, nose-deep in his phone, scrolling and laughing at his social media feed, was relaxed compared to Destiny, who was now tight-lipped and grasping at her arm rests. The pilot seemed indifferent to Destiny’s anxious behaviour and only threw a disappointed look over his shoulder at her photographer.

No electronics while we’re in flight, please, he said, exhaling deeply.

Oh, sorry. Miguel grimaced, sliding his phone into his fanny pack.

Ready? the pilot asked, preparing for takeoff.

Destiny knew next to nothing about planes and cockpits, and as the pilot appeared to push a dizzying array of controls just out of her sight, her anxiety peaked. Even though he seemed to know what he was doing, she still couldn’t help but want to question the very young-looking pilot. Another loud rumble of thunder boomed outside, and before Destiny could contain her anxiety any longer, the words fell from her lips.

Hey so, um… have you ever flown to St. Angelis before? Destiny called out over the noise of the engine and the rain.

I fly there all the time, the pilot said, shrugging. I’m the official royal pilot.

Oh, so do you know the queen? Destiny asked, straightening up a bit. The prospect of being able to interview the queen’s personal pilot temporarily brightened her mood.

You could say that, he said flatly, as he finished preparing for takeoff.

Okay, everyone. Hold onto your butts.

Destiny and Miguel looked at each other with wide eyes and she made a face as the small, private jet lurched forward on the tarmac. As the plane accelerated and gently rose into the air, Destiny relaxed her grip on the armrests of her seat and tried to force herself to look out the window. The small business jet rose up through the clouds and over Miami just at the edge of the storm, causing the plane to teeter in the air. Miguel continued to seem unfazed and the pilot remained calm at his station as the weather intensified at their tail. Then, as quickly as the storm had started, the rain eased, and within minutes of being in flight, the sky brightened and the clouds began to dissipate.

By the time the jet was flying over the open, vast waters of the Atlantic Ocean, Destiny’s mind had eased and she was able to focus on

Reviews for Royally Screwed

[judy griffin · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

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